The Intern
by anotherpearl
Summary: AU. Bella Swan is an underpaid, under-appreciated intern at a Hollywood production company. One night she finds herself at a swanky party, and meets the illustrious actor, Edward Cullen. Little does she know that the meeting will turn her life, both personal and professional, upside down. Rated M for future lemons. Of course.
1. Chapter 1

Invisibility seems like it would be a really great power. That is, until you have it.

I know, I know. There are lots of cool things you can do with it. Sneak into movies. Spy on your boyfriend. Pretend to be Harry Potter.

But all of that stuff would get old. And eventually, you'd long to just be seen. No one talks about how invisibility means slipping through a room, unnoticed and unloved. Maybe it's because no one can quite understand that feeling until it happens to them; until they've stared into another's eyes and realized that the other person could just as easily be looking at thin air.

Well, I know exactly how it feels.

"Bella?"

I look up from the scanner, where I'm in the middle of placing page 235 of a book onto the glass plate. It's been a really long day.

Stephanie saunters up in her patent leather Jimmy Choos and figure-hugging dress. The ensemble has a lot to hug, and she's quite aware of it. So is every man in the office. And within a 30 mile radius.

"I need you to take this over to the Feldman Agency. It has to be there by 7pm. I don't want to have to pay for a messenger so..." she trails off and thrusts the package at me.

I grab it from her, and look down at my watch.

"It's 6:45p. Do you think I'll be able to-"

"You have to. The agent that needs it is leaving at 7. But I have faith in you. Thank you so much." Stephanie smiles before sashaying away.

Sarah Silverman was completely right about women in Los Angeles. They don't just say thank you. It's always "thank you soooo much." Emphasis on the "so."

She turns back around without warning.

"And make sure that you get the package to him directly. Not his assistant. Not that bitch at the desk. It has to go to him." With that, she leaves.

With a sigh, I set down the book I've been scanning for a good couple of hours and head out of the office. Hopefully the traffic isn't bad.

The traffic is terrible.

But what else would I expect from LA?

I'm a recent transplant. I graduated from college with a 4.0 and the dream of becoming Bella Swan, screenwriter extraordinaire. So I packed up my stuff and shipped out to LA, where I've been camped out on my cousin's futon.

It's been five long months. The first three months were a blur of job applications, ill-fated interviews, and tears over pints of Ben and Jerry's I couldn't afford. It seemed like the only words I ever heard were, "We needed someone with a little more experience." But all I understood was that they needed someone that wasn't me.

And then one day I landed an internship. After the whirlwind of, "no"s I'd been hearing, it was wonderfully intoxicating to get a yes, of any kind. I happily accepted, understanding that it could get me some contacts. Experience. Teach me a few things. Unfortunately money wasn't on the list of things I'd be getting... Though I started tutoring part-time to bridge the gap.

But I've heard that interning is really just unemployment with a different name. Or at least, that's what my parents keep yelling at me anytime they get me on the phone.

I pull up to the Feldman Agency at 7:05. I jump out of the car, and run.

I can see the look of disgust on the woman's face as I walk up to the reception desk.

"Can I help you?" she says curtly. In red lipstick and a suit that probably cost more than most people's rents, she looked like the Barbie version of a receptionist. She also looks like she's never sweat a day in her life, while I, on the other hand, am starting to pour it.

"My name's Bella Swan. I'm the intern from Clybourn Productions."

"Oh, right. They told me they were sending an intern. You're looking for Frank."

I open my mouth to respond, and then realize that Stephanie hadn't told me the name of the person I'm looking for.

"I don't know. Maybe?"

"You are," she answers almost as though it's an afterthought. She picks up her phone and dials a couple of numbers.

"Hi, is Frank still in?" she asks the person on the other end. She nods a couple of times before slamming the receiver back down.

"He's gone. If you'd like, you can leave the package with me and I'll get it to his assistant." She reaches out for the package, but I don't hand it over. She raises her eyebrows at me.

"I was actually told to get it to him directly." I try to say it in my most authoritative, but nice tone.

"Yeah, whatever. He's gone." Apparently my tone didn't help; I can feel the edge of bitch slap in her voice.

"Um, well do you know where he's gone to? Maybe I could meet him there? Hand it to him?" I smile at her sweetly. My mother always taught me to match vinegar with sugar.

"I'm not going to let you stalk Frank. Either give me the package or take it back to your office."

I hug the package to my chest.

"Okay, then. Have a nice night," she says before she looks back down at her computer. I'm effectively dismissed.

Each step I take out of the talent agency feels like a step towards defeat. As I exit the building, I fish my cellphone out of my purse and dial Stephanie's number.

"Hello?!" Stephanie yells into the phone. I hear loud music and laughter in the background.

"Hi. I'm really sorry. I didn't catch Frank. He left before I got to Feldman. But I can drop the package off first thing in the morning. Or maybe I can-" Her laughter cuts me off.

"I'm sorry, Bella. He's actually here where I am. I should have just waited and handed it to him. I'm such a ditz." I can just imagine her hitting her head for emphasis. This is one of her favorite apology lines.

"Oh, okay. Do you want me to bring the package to you now?"

"Yes, that would so be wonderful." The "so" is drawn out. Of course.

"Where should I come?" I get into my car and rev it up.

"The Soho House. It's cocktail hour. At eight we're all going to the screening room for a preview of the new Edward Cullen movie. So, come quick." And then the line goes dead.

It's been a really long day.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit excited for my trip to the Soho House. You see, in Hollywood it's all about who you know. And then conversely, how many people know your name. As a member's only club, the Soho House is the perfect embodiment of these very important rules. Most of Hollywood's biggest power players were members, and all of it's wannabes were frantically filling out applications so that they too could be counted among the elite.

As I enter the Soho House, I feel as though I've walked into someone's very posh study. The walls are a dark, slate blue, and the floors a perfect kind of brushed hardwood that I've only ever seen in Restoration Hardware catalogues. Books of every size, shape and color adorn the built-in bookcases throughout the room. A smiling woman stands behind the dark, oak reception desk and quickly waves me towards the rooftop terrace, where the guests are taking in a few drinks before the screening starts. Stephanie has apparently told her to expect me. Thank god for small miracles.

My breath catches when I reach the rooftop. For a second I forget my mission and walk towards one of the terrace's plate glass walls. Los Angeles has never looked so beautiful; the lights of the city twinkle before me like urban stars dotting a slowly darkening horizon. It's a long moment before I snap to, and realize that I'm not here to take in the sights; I've been given a job.

I scan the terrace quickly for Stephanie and don't see her. It'll be just my luck that she's left and now wants me to hop a plane and hand deliver the package to Dubai. But just before I give up hope, I spot her telltale cleavage.

"Well, there you are!" She reaches out for the package and I hand it to her, "What took you so long?"

"Rush hour traffic was pretty-" before I can finish she's screeching a greeting to someone else and giving them a bear hug.

"Oh my god! Man of the hour!" When the person in question pulls back from her frontal attack, my breath catches for the second time of the night. Because there, a foot away from me, is Edward Cullen.

Seeing a famous person in real life is always a strange experience. In pictures and film they always seem taller or shorter or more handsome. But that wasn't true of Edward Cullen. With his bronze hair falling into his sea-glass green eyes, and a perfectly scruffy five o'clock shadow, Edward Cullen was every inch as delectable as expected.

"What's her deal?" He motions to me.

I realize that I've been staring and feel my face heat.

"Oh, she's the intern." Stephanie throws a dismissive wave in my direction before turning her back to me and fixing her attention on Edward Cullen.

But then he does a curious thing. He turns to me and smiles the most beautiful, dazzling smile I could imagine anyone ever having. Edward Cullen reaches out his hand.

"Hi, intern. I'm Edward."

I stare at his hand for a beat like a dolt. He looks at me expectantly, before his brow furrows in confusion. Realizing my mistake, I quickly put my hand into his and shake it.

"Um, hi. Nice to meet you." I can barely get the words out.

I can feel the warmth of his hand all the way down to my toes. I'd always scoffed at romance novels and chick lit books where the heroine talks about their knees getting weak or feeling like jello. But as he shakes my hand and gives me a smirk, I can't help but use those words in my own head to describe how I feel. In this moment I completely understand why he gets the big bucks; he's got some serious mojo.

"The pleasure is all mine." He seems to purr the words.

We shake hands for what feels like forever. Stephanie must agree because she clears her throat and loops her arm through Edward's, pulling him away from me.

"Thankfully, the intern here just brought over a package for Frank Lanman's client, Leo Poderoski. You know, the director?" She puts a hand on Edward's chest.

"Yeah, who doesn't?"

"Well, I see them standing over there. Do you want to meet them? I'm sure they'd love to meet you."

Edward gives me a parting glance and a smile as Stephanie leads him away.

"Go get a drink! You came this far, you might as well." Stephanie says to me over her shoulder as they walk away.

Don't mind if I do.

Hope you guys are enjoying! Leave a review and let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

Even the bartender here is gorgeous. As she swishes and stirs and shakes my drink, her hair seems to shine like spun silk in the dim light. She makes her uniform look like something that should be walked down an Alexander Wang runway. I'd hate her if she didn't seem so nice.

"You new?" she asks as she slides my drink to me. It's a pretty pale green color with a sprig of mint as garnish, I can't help but be a little impressed.

"To the city?" I ask her as I take a sip. Delicious. Even more impressed.

"To this scene," she motions to the party around us. People are milling around and getting closer and closer to the exit of the terrace. It must almost be time for the screening.

"How could you tell?" As I ask the question, I realize it must not be hard to figure. Especially for someone who spends their time catering to this clientele.

"You're not schmoozing. It's all about the schmooze at these things," she says as she cleans up the bar.

"Yeah, I guess I'm new." No use fighting it. She's not wrong.

"Where you from, newbie?" She smiles at me.

"Washington state."

"Really?" She seems to perk up, and her smile widens. I nod.

"I am too! I'm from Seattle," She gestures wildly, "What part are you from?"

"I'm from Forks, it's near Port Angeles. Super small."

"I've heard of it. I've never been though," she leans in conspiratorially over the bar, "Do you ever miss the rain? I do all the time. Came to California excited for the perfect weather and actually miss having to wear rain boats."

"Sometimes. I miss the coffee more, though. The coffee here is terrible."

She laughs and puts out her hand.

"Rosalie Hale." I take her hand and shake it.

"Bella Swan. Nice to meet you."

"There's actually this really good coffee shop in West Hollywood that I always go to. We should go some time. It'll be just what you're looking for, I'm sure,"

I nod enthusiastically. I hadn't quite gotten the hang of the LA social scene yet. I had moved down without a friend to my name and hadn't had much luck making new ones. And while I loved my cousin, Alice, there were only so many hipster art gallery parties a girl could take. I could use a new friend.

"For sure." I smile at her. She writes her number down on a piece of paper and hands it to me.

"Text me and we'll hang. It's always so nice meeting people from home. The people here are nice, but it's a different kind of nice." A new customer comes up to the bar, she gives me one last smile before gliding over to him.

I'm left to my own devices for mere seconds before I feel someone at my side.

"Hi, Intern." I turn around and am met with the green eyes of Edward Cullen, once again. I'm a little better equipped this time.

"Hi, again."

Edward sits down on the seat next to mine, setting his drink down and turning to me.

"Should you be going into the screening?" I ask. People are shuffling off of the terrace and towards the screening room as we speak.

He gives a nonchalant shrug.

"Already seen it. But _you_, on the other hand, I have yet to see." He takes a long sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact. And then his eyes rake over my body, making it fully known what he'd like to see.

"I'm sure there are other people you hadn't met at the party," I take a sip of my own drink.

"But none of them are as beautiful as you."

I inwardly roll my eyes. I look at Edward Cullen, with his perfectly tousled hair, his million-dollar smirk, that look of certainty in his eye that he's going to win me over, and all I can think is that he's _such a fucking cliché. ˆ_

"Don't say that too loud, you might hurt their feelings." I turn to the bar, now weary of Edward Cullen.

"Are you going to tell me your name?"

"Candy."

Edward chuckles.

"I've met a few Candys. There's no way your name is Candy." He raises his eyebrows at me, and waits for an answer.

"Fine, my name isn't Candy. Though I'm just going to point out that the woman who moderated the last Presidential debate was a Candy. You can't judge the girl by the name."

"I'm sure. You're a saucy one, huh?"

"I guess."

"Nothing wrong with that." He tries to give me another one of his smiles, but I'm finding it less charming than before. How many women had the smile gotten to already? He leans in and I can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"So are you going to tell me your name?" He quirks an eyebrow at me.

I take a long sip, steadying myself, before I turn to Edward Cullen and look him dead in the eye.

"Let me stop you right there. Because I don't think you care even a tiny bit what my name is. In fact, I'm guessing that if I gave you my name, you'd have every intention of forgetting it once you got me into your bed," I stand, grabbing my purse, "So let's just skip this whole charade and jump to the part where you ignore me. I really don't need the trouble."

And with that I walk out the door, leaving a very stunned Edward Cullen.

XXXXXX

"You turned down Edward Cullen?" My cousin Alice stares at me in disbelief later. I had told her about his come-on in passing, as I did the dishes. I'd also talked about Rosalie and the package delivery from hell. But the Edward bit was apparently the only part that interested her. She jumps off of the couch and comes to stand at my side.

"Yeah, so?" I set a couple of mugs on the drying rack.

"Do you know how many women would kill to jump his bones?"

"So he can go have sex with them. And?" I wipe my hands and turn to Alice. "I'm not here in LA to sleep with horny actors. I'm here to make something of myself."

"The two aren't mutually exclusive."

"They kind of are."

"Really?" Alice puts her hands on her hips defiantly, "How so?"

"The last thing I need is to get a reputation and get known for sleeping with the first that actor that bats his over-long eyelashes at me."

"They are nice lashes."

"Not the point."

"But you should also remember that you're young. And hot. And should have some fun. If you want to be a writer you have to have some crazy, off-the-wall experiences to write about, right?" Alice squeezes my shoulder playfully.

"Maybe."

"And when's the last time you had sex?"

I look at Alice like she's crazy.

"I've had sex recently."

Alice crosses her arms, and gives me a stern look.

"Don't lie."

"Recently-ish." I'll admit that I was stretching the truth a bit. It had been a year. And to be honest, the last time I'd had sex had been so bad that the year of celibacy almost looked like a good thing.

Alice sighs and starts heading towards her bedroom.

"There's nothing wrong with seizing the day and going for the good story. That's all I'm saying." Just as she reaches the door she spins around.

"And you need a really good fuck."

"Alice!"

"It's the truth. I stand my ground. You need someone who'll give you serious Os."

"That sounds like a weird brand of cereal."

"Believe me or not, but I think it's exactly what you need. You've been working hard. You deserve a man to make you feel good. Please, there's nothing that a good roll in the sack with Jasper can't fix. He's really good with his fingers, and-"

"Okay, I get the message. I should be sleeping with every hot guy who winks at me. I'll work on it."

Alice points at me as though trying to hold me to my previous statement.

"Do it."

I throw a dismissive wave in her direction.

"Go to bed."

"Gladly." With a smile and a wave she leaves.

XXXXXX

The traffic on the way to the office on Monday is terrible. Bumper to bumper the entire way. When I finally arrive, I'm fifteen minutes late and a bit frazzled.

I open the door to the office as quietly as possible, and try to tiptoe over to the intern desk without notice. But that's the funny thing about invisibility; it always fails you when you need it most. Because when I turn the final corner to get to the intern desk I'm met with about a dozens sets of eyes, all locked on me.

"Good morning," I squeak out. "Sorry I'm late. The traffic was terrible, I was on the 405 for a good hour."

No one says a word, Stephanie just grabs a huge bouquet of flowers and thrusts them at me.

"You have a delivery," she spits out. Everyone turns back to their work as I sit down at my desk and look at the flowers.

Who would-

My question is answered before I can completely ask it.

The card reads, "To The Intern, From Edward Cullen. Still wondering what your name is. I doubt I could forget it."

Oh, boy.

Uh-oh. What happens next? Keep reviewing! I love hearing what you guys have to say. I feel like this chapter answered some of the questions you guys had in the last batch of reviews. But let me know what you think! Reviews are my fuel! :)


	4. Chapter 4

His number is written on the back of the note in surprisingly neat script. I can't help but wonder how much one of his rabid fans would pay for it. $1,000? $10,000? It would be a good start to the apartment fund I'd been trying to jump start for weeks now.

With a sigh I toss the note into the trash. I don't need anything from Edward Cullen.

"You might want to cross out the number before you throw it out. People go through the trash looking for that kind of stuff all the time."

I look up and am met with the kind smile of Angela, one of the assistants in the office. She'd always been nice, but as she was the assistant to the big boss, I'd never really gotten the chance to talk to her. She was usually too busy running around like a chicken with it's head cut off.

"Really?"

She reaches into the trash and pulls out the note.

"People are crazy. You know how much they could sell it for? And god forbid one of his fans get it and start leaving him voicemails about the shrine she built in his honor. I'm pretty sure that would make Edward rather unhappy."

Had she read my mind? I mean, I wouldn't have actually done it. I think. I am pretty broke.

She hands the note to me.

"I suppose you're right." I take the note back. I look at it for a beat, before I rip it up and throw it back into the trash.

"It's almost a shame. Those are really pretty forget-me-nots. Who knew Edward had a sweet side?" She smiles at me before walking back towards her office.

I look back at the bouquet of purple flowers on my desk. Forget-me-nots? Interesting.

I sit down, moving the flowers aside. Time to get to work and hope that the office won't keep staring at me like I'm some kind of circus freak. I open the intern email account.

At Clybourn Productions all of the interns share an email account. Through it, we're given our tasks for the day. This means that we're CONSTANTLY fielding emails. Have you done this? That? Check that. Do this errand. It was a small office, but they'd effectively figured out a way to only have to talk to us when absolutely necessary. A new email entered the inbox with a ping. It was entitled "Man-card," from Stephanie. I opened it.

_Looks like someone's traded it in. For an intern. Not convinced, though. I give it a week :) _

I look at the list of recipients; she'd sent it to all of the other assistants in the office. Classy. Was I supposed to get the email? Did she want me to see this? And who did she think she was, Gossip Girl?

I look up at Stephanie, and find her staring at me, a feline smile on her lips.

I stare back at her for a second, tilting my chin up defiantly. I'm not bothered, and if I were I certainly wouldn't let her know it.

I turn back to my computer and start scanning the inbox for assignments when I hear another email ping.

_Make that three days. _

Stephanie's three-day prediction isn't completely off the mark.

Exactly three days later, I get a ginormous box of chocolates from some company named Vosges. They're in a beautiful, deep purple box with matching bow. Fancy.

This gift has a note, too.

_Silence will only spur me on, _the note reads,_ Let me take you to dinner. _

Next to the neatly written phone number, there's now an email address. He means business.

Again, the entire office watches me take in Edward's offering. Though, this time, a few of them allow themselves to look outwardly astonished. I think I count three mouths hanging open.

Stephanie sneers at me as she walks to the printer. I give her my biggest, brightest grin as I sit down at the desk and log into my personal email account.

As weird (and somewhat fun) as this actor courting ritual has been, it needs to end. And now. I start typing.

_Please stop sending me gifts at the Clybourn Productions office. You're making a spectacle out of this and it's incredibly unprofessional. Also, your request for dinner wasn't actually a request. It was a command. As it is not a question, it does not require an answer, and it will not get one. Have a nice day. _

I hit the send button with a flourish. And that's that.

As I hear the telltale "whoosh," of my email being lobbed out into cyberspace, I feel a small pang that I wasn't expecting. I don't allow myself to analyze it; there are bigger, more important fish to fry. And what would have become of it, anyway? I'm an intern. He's one of the highest paid actors in Hollywood. If Hollywood were a foodchain (which in some respects, it was), he would be a proud lion prancing around and slaying prey with the ease of a big, sexy cat. And I would be an ant, being trod upon by people in Louboutins. Lions don't get with ants.

When I hear the ping of a new email, I can't help but jump and turn to the screen. It's from Groupon. My shoulders slump.

The harsh sound of someone curtly clearing their throat catches my attention. I turn to find Stephanie looking at me in a self-satisfied fashion. Uh-oh.

"Bella, I have a bit of a bad assignment for you today. I'm so sorry, but it would help us so, so much if you did this."

"Sure, what do you need?"

She motions for me to stand and follow. I get up from my seat, and trail behind her. She really does need to start going a size up in her clothes, I can see her pantylines. Not okay.

She takes me to the reception area where a pile of about 30 or so notebooks sits.

She turns to me.

"I'm going to need you to individually gift wrap these notebooks. They're thank you gifts for the cast and crew of _Sara's Song._ Aren't they so cute?"

I stare at the pile in disbelief. Did I just hear her correctly?

"We need them by 4pm. Thank you!" With that, she turns and walks away. And I'm left with the Mount Everest of wrapping jobs. Oh, joy.

When the day finally ends and I meet Rosalie for coffee in West Hollywood, my hands have been reduced to useless stumps.

"She made you wrap 30 presents?"

I nod. I had just barely made the 4pm deadline, and had gotten a "thank you so much," when I handed the wrapped presents over. It had taken everything in me not to slap Stephanie's smug, victorious look off of her face. But I refused to let her get to me. Refused.

"I still have hand cramps," I hold my lifeless hands out in front of me for emphasis.

"That bitch."

I shrug. It is what it is, I guess. I knew that I would be doing a fair amount of grunt work as an intern. I just didn't realize that I'd have a sadistic assistant lording over me like a slave driver and using the work as a weapon.

"She feels threatened," Rose looks me in the eye, "You know that's what it is, right?"

"What's there to be threatened by? She's got the job. She's getting paid. I'm an intern. And one who wants to be a writer, at that. It's not like I'm taking anything away from her."

"But, aren't you?"

I look up at Rosalie.

"Edward isn't hers. And I'm not trying to take him away. He's hitting on me."

"You're getting attention. From Edward. From your coworkers because of Edward. It's attention taken off of her. It's making you memorable, giving you currency."

"Unprofessional attention. And currency?"

"Unprofessional in Hollywood is measured a little differently than in the rest of the world. And think about it. If you've got the charms to whip Edward Cullen into sending you flowers, what else are you capable of? And if you've got an A-list celebrity on your side, you've got some serious power behind you."

"That's the wrong kind of power. I want power because I'm a good writer and a hard worker. Not because some guy wants to sleep with me."

"Honey, I'm sad to say it, but in this town that's one of the most powerful positions you can be in."

"Well, I don't want to be that girl. Using my feminine wiles and playing people like chess pieces."

"Then you won't be. Just know that this town is a bit crooked. It's not always about your work as much as who you're working, one way or another. And know that when your coworkers see you getting gifts from Edward Cullen, that's exactly what they're thinking."

Rosalie raises her coffee as though she's toasting me and then takes a sip for emphasis.

"Very Machiavellian. How do you know all of this?"

"Live in this town long enough and it's hard not to."

I can't take it anymore. This conversation is making my head swim. Why can't things be simple and merit-based? But I guess that's not really the way the world works, and it certainly doesn't sound like it's the way L.A. works.

I sigh.

"Who cares, anyway. I told him to stop contacting me."

"Seriously?" Rosalie practically screeches the question. "But, he's Edward freaking Cullen."

"Not you, too. You sound like my cousin Alice. She keeps telling me to sow my wild oats."

"And she's right. He's probably got some serious moves."

"And the STDs to match. Whoop-de-doo."

Rosalie rolls her eyes.

"Oh, come on. You act like you're unaffected, but you know you are. And all I'm saying is that it's not everyday that a little worker bee like us gets attention from a millionaire actor. Would it be so terrible to go to dinner with him? Maybe you'd like him."

I shrug.

"Well, it's over now. So I guess I'll never know."

She seems to think about this for a second before looking around at the coffee shop.

"Maybe not."

I can feel the pang again, like a little icicle needling at my heart. I quickly bury it. Doing anything with Edward Cullen would be a bad idea. Right?

I'm sorry that this update took so long. Things have been in flux, and I've been traveling, so it's been hard to make the time. But I promise that I'm back to updating. I don't intend to leave this unfinished!


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